Chapter 32
Anders’s approximation of how long the drive to Liechtenstein will take is spot-on.
Which would be all well and good if I hadn’t been ripped from sleep by a nightmare where I kill Claude again, this time by stabbing him with my father’s switchblade in the underground club. Much more intimate than the real thing.
Once the life drained from his dark eyes, the entire room filled with blood.
The viscous liquid flooded the place in minutes, rising all the way up from my toes to my neck, soaking me in guilt and copper.
Before it could drown me, Bes’s face buoyed up from the depths.
His eyes were empty and lifeless, a bullet hole ripped through the center of his skull.
I gasped awake after that. Cec squeezed my arm without saying a word.
Despite the rude awakening, I actually did manage a couple hours of rest. By the time we’re at the border between Switzerland and Liechtenstein, I’m more myself.
Peering out through the grime-streaked window, I take in this small country for the first time in my life.
Dark thunder clouds have nestled themselves among the mountains, allowing the fields and trees to become oversaturated with deep shades of green.
Colorful little houses have quietly tucked themselves into the rolling hillsides, smoke billowing from their thin stacks.
I’m having a hard time picturing a castle making its home in a quaint town like this.
That is, until it comes into view.
The Gutenberg Castle sits perched atop a craggy hill ripe with vegetation.
While the castle itself appears a bit rundown, and parts of it are littered with scaffolding, it retains much of its ancient charm.
I can’t look away. Ever since being immersed in the hidden stronghold beneath Castle Breno, I’ve begun to wonder if every castle doesn’t have something grand hidden inside it.
I’m not sure what I was expecting when we came upon the castle, but it wasn’t for Anders to drive right past the wide dirt path leading directly to it without even slowing down.
I lean forward in my seat. “Don’t tell me there’s a second castle in Balzers.”
“You can’t expect us to knock on the door and have them invite us in for tea,” Cec quips. It reminds me of what he said about getting tickets on a boat in the port of Alexandria. Cheeky bastard.
“Obviously. But it would be nice to know what the actual plan is.”
“As if this wasn’t your idea from the get-go,” Bes says.
“Yes, but, I’m not a planner, Bes,” I argue. “I thought you knew this about me.”
He grunts.
Anders taps his fingers on the wheel. “We’re meeting Kali and Mara at the Katholische Pfarrkirche St. Nikolaus.”
I blink. “Gesundheit.”
Anders chuckles once. “Apologies, I forgot it doesn’t translate for you.”
At first, I’m not sure what he means. Then I remember initiated order members gain the knowledge of all the others who join, which means they must possess what amounts to an internal translator, same as with the ancient Egyptian languages.
Before I can ask, Cec translates for me. “What he said was, we’re heading to the Catholic Parish Church of Saint Nikolaus.”
“A church?” I groan. “Why does it have to be a church?” Anywhere else—they could’ve chosen anywhere else.
“You’re not religious, Miss Hawkins?” Surprise colors Anders’s question.
I fight against rolling my eyes. “Put it this way: the Catholic church and I haven’t seen eye to eye on a lot of things in a very long time.”
“We’ll likely be going in the back way,” Bes assures me. “I promise you’ll never have to see the altar.”
I tap the back of his seat. “I’ll hold you to that.”
We turn right down the first street past the castle and immediately come to a stop.
Anders puts the car into park and shifts in his seat to regard us all.
“When it’s done, I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom of the castle road.”
Cec nods. “We’ll find a way to contact you if we’re unable to make the rendezvous.”
Anders’s attention lingers on Cec a tick before sliding to me.
“One last thing.” Anders hands me a rolled slip of paper. “I copied over the incantation for the Amulet of Amun, and wrote it phonetically as well. Could be helpful in a pinch.”
For a moment, I recall what it was like to be invisible. No one could see me—not even myself—yet everyone could still hear me and feel me. And then, to see all three of their auras… A fight against the chill scraping up my spine at the memory. I’d rather not repeat that so soon after.
I slip the paper into my pants’ pocket anyway.
The Amulet of Amun, safely tucked away beneath my shirt, warms at the mention of itself.
Anders deserves more credit: he never saw me steal the amulet back, but assumed I did, and so he took the time to write down the incantation for me.
Something that could very well save my life, or the lives of Bes and Cec.
Would a spy do that?
“Thank you, Anders. For everything.”
He nods, a corner of his lips pulling up.
Everyone except Anders exits the car. Leaving my bag in the backseat, the only things I bring with me are my switchblade, the handgun in its thigh holster with a few extra bullets in my pocket, and the incantation. Each one a weapon I’m praying I won’t need.
Once the doors shut, Anders pulls back onto the main road and drives off. Cec stares at the Fiat’s taillights until they’re out of sight, brow wrinkled.
We trudge up the dark gray cobblestone leading to the front of the church in a weighted silence. Cec’s cane marking our every step. Thick, imposing trees line the edges, forming a loose canopy overhead and casting shadows on an already-dreary scene.
Unease fills my stomach, and not just because I’ll be stepping inside the walls of a church for the first time in years.
I’m not afraid of going after Gurlitt; I’m more concerned about any others who might be inside the castle, or even the church.
I can’t shake the feeling that Ingrid has somehow followed us again.
Shaking off my concerns, I glance ahead of us and grimace. It’s a church alright, and more holier-than-thou than it has any right to be.
The size and shape are average for a Catholic place of worship, which means there are likely vaulted ceilings inside.
The structure’s uneven gray stones jut out at odd angles.
A solid wooden door outlined in gold filigree sits atop half a dozen crumbling stone steps, and a white lamb lays down starkly above it.
Small medieval windows adorn either side of the door and branch out around it.
Three square stained-glass windows crowd each other at the high center, their colors muted by the clouds.
The one to my left appears to be Jesus on the cross—no surprise there—but I’m not sure about the one on the right.
It features a man dressed in gold and a red cloak with a peasant kneeling beside his horse.
The words in the middle one are written in German, so I’m shit out of luck there.
I suppose I could ask Bes or Cec to translate it, but I don’t care enough to ask.
A clock tower looms behind the front facade. I squint to see what time it is—
Cec grabs my arm, and I nearly trip. “We’re being followed.”
I glance behind us, finding two men with dirty blonde hair, serious expressions, and black suits marching up the cobblestone. Emblazoned on their lapel is what I could swear to be an unfinished, blood-red Jerusalem star.
I face forward again. “Why do they have a Jerusalem star pinned to their suits?”
Bes glances at me, then behind us.
“That’s not a Jerusalem star; that’s a Kruckenkreuz,” he explains quietly. “These men belong to the newly-formed Vaterl?ndische Union.”
Cec adds, “Otherwise known as the Liechtenstein Nazis.”
My stomach hollows. “Shit.”
Bes reaches over and places his free hand on my arm. “Keep calm. We have no idea if they know who we are. They could very well be walking to the church to pray.”
I nod, even as panic seizes my body—so much so I can’t see what’s in front of me except the church. God is laughing at me: for once, I need the church.
Cec pats Bes’s shoulder in reassurance before gripping my arm. My heart pounds inside my chest, unable to comprehend what’ll happen to us if these men catch up to us and do in fact mean us harm.
Cresting the top of the road, Bes reaches for my hand. It’s warm and reassuring and wholly unexpected. Especially after the other night.
Steps away from our salvation, I search his gaze, finding only fear despite his previous statement.
Tightening my grip around Cec, I follow Bes when he takes us to the left around the church and down a short flight of stairs.
This area of the church grounds opens up expansively, crumbling gravestones spread out across the bright green grass.
The tips of the high mountains beyond remain concealed by thick, gray cloud cover.
Dropping my hand, Bes pivots sharply up another set of stairs, taking us through an open tunnel and over to a third flight of descending steps. They spit us out in front of a wide doorway—where a nun waits for us.
A nun who works for the order? Now, I’ve seen everything.
Bes approaches the holy woman. “Mara.”
Mara? I nearly stumble. She’s completely unrecognizable, except for her bright azure irises.
She looks ridiculous dressed head to toe in black and white, like the nuns of my nightmares.
I wish it were Kali in her place instead, but all I can hope is she’s good at what she does.
And that she can put whatever petty differences she’s invented between us aside.
The sound of hurried footsteps on the cobblestone hastens toward us. My stomach lurches.
Mara waves us inside, the cloth of her habit billowing. “Hurry.”
The moment she shuts the doors and throws the heavy deadbolt across them, hard fists pound against the wood. Pressing my back against the wall, my heart rattles inside my chest. They continue to bang on the door, but it holds fast.